


Camellia

by yodepalma



Series: Schmoopfest 2016 [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Flowers, Fluff and Crack, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodepalma/pseuds/yodepalma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy gets a delivery at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camellia

**Author's Note:**

> The story behind me writing this fic is, uh, me waking up at 4am, remembering suddenly that, oh shit, my one-year wedding anniversary is coming up in less than 3 months, and what do I get for my wife??? So of course I started thinking about ridiculous romantic gestures, and somehow this turned into Roy receiving flowers at work and...this happened???
> 
> I didn't have any flowers in mind when I was writing the story, but then I remembered this one website that offered the meaning of red camellia as "You're a Flame in My Heart" which just. pffffft.
> 
> A list of Victorian flower meanings from the late 1800s (& illustrated by Kate Greenaway in like 1987 in the book Language of Flowers), states red camellia to more realistically mean "unpretending excellence", while white camellia means "perfected loveliness", both of which are Roy enough to use the camellia as the title of this story. 8D
> 
> Story is set in some undefined post-CoS storyline where Ed was not an idiot and just stayed in Amestris like he should have. I like to think it is also Roy and Ed's one-year anniversary.

_Camellia_

“Delivery for General Mustang?” a very confused voice says, breaking cleanly into the miserable fugue state Roy falls into when he can't escape his never-ending pile of paperwork, and he looks up with a start. A delivery man is standing in front of his desk, sweating slightly in the summer heat the open windows and doors can never quite dispel, and looking around the office with the air of a man who’s never been inside a military building before and is sorely disappointed to discover it is little more than a glorified office building.

“Come again?” Roy asks, bemused. His eyebrow rises as he finally notices just what is being delivered, and the man blinks guilelessly back at him, then shrugs and holds the vase up slightly. It's a riot of red and green and white, with some hints of purple, and it's really quite beautiful, but Roy cannot fathom who would be—or for that matter, _why_ they would be _—_ sending him flowers.

“I was told to deliver these to Mustang's office,” the man says. “And it's been a hell of an adventure just getting here, let me tell you, so am I in the right place? I've got other bouquets wilting in the car while I jump through hoops with you people.”

“Ah—terribly sorry; you've made it to the right office.” Roy smiles wryly, hoping to put the man more at ease, and is gratified to see the man’s posture fall into something slightly less defensive as he steps forward and puts the vase on the desk, tweaking the flowers a little. “I'm afraid I was just a bit baffled. I can't say I've ever received flowers before, certainly not at work....”

The delivery man gives his face a hard look, and Roy has to resist the urge to reach a hand up to his eyepatch to adjust it. It's sheer vanity that makes him keep it on these days—the gunshot and subsequent life-saving surgeries left nasty scars across half of his face that he can't bear to look at in the daylight—but he wonders sometimes what other people must think of it. At least some life has returned to the rest of his face lately. He no longer looks like he has one foot in death’s door, and who does he have to thank for that?

“There's a card with the flowers,” the man says, breaking into his thoughts. Roy blinks at him, frowns at the vase, and plucks the little envelope out from among the leaves and stems. He shouldn't have missed that; perhaps he needs a break. There's a new café around the corner; it should be an excellent spot to investigate for lunch—

The handwriting on the card is instantly recognizable, and Roy curls a hand around his mouth to hide his smile. The delivery man is still staring at him, curiosity palpable, but Roy ignores him entirely as he reads the short missive and feels something in his chest expand to the point of pain. He suspects it may be his heart, which is—alarming. After three years on the very northern edges of Amestris, frozen down to his soul, he still doesn't know how to handle these moments.

“Good news, then?” the man pushes. “Wife pregnant?”

Roy clears his throat painfully. “I'm not married,” he says through the hand he still hasn't removed because he still can't stop smiling. “Thank you for the delivery. One of my men will be more than happy to see you to the door if you require any assistance.”

Hawkeye, bless her and her sixth sense that tells her all of Roy's needs before Roy knows them himself, promptly shows up in the doorway to lead the disappointed man away. She shoots Roy a look as she closes the door to the inner office that say he owes her one (which is fine, as he's sure he owes her several by now), and once he's alone he finally lowers his hand to beam blissfully at nothing.

He picks up the phone and dials a now-familiar number, waiting patiently through far too many rings for a long-familiar voice to answer.

“Darling,” he says, and waits patiently through the annoyed growls at the pet name, “I promise dinner tonight will be as great as you requested, but perhaps you’d like to have lunch too?”

“You just got the flowers, didn't you?” Ed asks shrewdly, not missing a beat. “I guess I could use a break anyway.”

“There's a new café around the corner from Headquarters,” Roy offers. “They have some sort of toasted sandwich from Aerugo I thought you might like to try.”

“You don't have to sell it, Mustang. If it's food and you're paying, I'm there. I'll see you in, what, thirty minutes?”

“That sounds fantastic. And, Ed?” There's an expectant silence from the other end of the line, and Roy holds up the card that came with his flowers in one hand so he can smile at it like the old sop Ed accused him of being. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> How did the florist delivery man get into the presumably not-easily-entered military compound? He was sent by Ed. This man is clearly hiding a secret of some sort, right? He's probably, like, a chimera or a superhero or something. 
> 
> I have been pretty much sleepwalking for the entire month of April but I promise I am attempting to work on things. Just, like, really slowly.


End file.
